


Cavity Vash

by TheBlondeRecluse



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Creepypasta, Horror, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlondeRecluse/pseuds/TheBlondeRecluse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have a nice smile...</p><p>(Sequel Posted)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cavity Vash

   Frederick Jonston barreled down the road as safely as he could to the police station where he worked. Recently, there had been a string of murders through the small forest town of Greenville, Ca. The first of which had been a little over three months ago. A middle-aged man had called in an assault. From the description, somebody had snuck up behind him, blindfolded him, pinned him to the ground, and ripped one of his teeth out. His body was found by a neighbor a week later in his backyard. On first glance, it appeared the mutilated carcass had merely been mauled by an animal. After all, the forest stretched out for more than ten miles in each direction. The case was closed as an unfortunate mountain lion attack, and the assault assumed to be a tweaked out junkie incident.  
        Only… about a week later there were two more calls about people being blindfolded and a tooth being ripped out. Eventually both were found torn apart in or around their work. As more and more people were found, it was assumed that we were dealing with a deranged chainsaw murderer. Just two weeks ago, Frederick's partner had gotten his tooth ripped out while patrolling the block near the home of one of the victims, who'd had a tooth taken. He still isn't sure how the fiend got in his car, but he also didn't remember much before the forced tooth removal.  
        Frederick nearly swerved off the road an hour earlier when he received a message through his C.B. He had been paranoid since it happened that any call he got would be the station informing him that Ronny was the latest victim of this sick horror-movie-wannabe's game. So when he heard Ronny's voice over the radio saying he had the the murder in custody and was taking him to the station, he decided to wrap up his patrol and head in himself.  
        He was almost there, but it seemed the closer he got to the station the more paranoid he felt. Thoughts of how had he come across the bastard started to cloud his mind. Was Ronny attacked? Was there another murder? Frederick shook away these thoughts away and tried not to think of the worst. He tried to focus on anything that would keep his mind off of it. He found the weather oddly enticing. There was supposed to be a ninety percent chance of a down poor today, yet there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Frederick kept thinking about things like this to keep himself distracted.  
        Not long later he arrived at the station to find his partner waiting by the door smoking a cigarette. He didn't look happy. Frederick released a breath, exited his car, and warily approached Ronny. From what he could tell Ronny seemed unharmed. Thank God. Ronny stomped out the cigarette butt as Frederick started asking questions.  
        "I came as fast as I could. What happened? How did you find him?" He asked as Ronny ushered him inside.  
        Ronny was unusually calm as he spoke. The calm, deadly way Frederick knew he only spoke when he was beyond angry. Lighting another cigarette, despite it being prohibited inside, he slowly took a drag and told Frederick what had happened.

  


        With his gun held close, Ronny kicked in the door of the civilian's house. The woman whose house it belonged to had fallen victim to the crazed tooth thief and installed a pricey security system into her home. Ronny being the closest when the distress alarm was triggered, was the first to arrive. The whole house was deathly silent as he crept through the small building. As he started to open a bedroom door, he felt a cold draft carrying a sickening scent from inside. The second he processed the smell, the door was kicked open. Before he could even yell freeze, he had caught sight of the appalling mess that used to be a human being lying...all over the room. The poor woman wasn't even recognizable anymore. There was chunks of flesh and bits of bone all over the room and blood overflowing and running off the sides of the bed. A dark mesh of torn apart meat and flesh remained for the most part on the middle of the bed.  
        Ronny almost collapsed backwards at the sight of it all. To keep himself from falling, he steadied himself against the doorway. He placed his hand over his mouth and waited there for his stomach to settle before he dared open his mouth. When he was sure he wouldn't puke, he fumbled for his radio to contact back up. With shaky hands, he held the radio to his lips in silence, just trying to find the right words. Any words. He wasn't even sure he could make a sound other than a strangled cry.  
        "Hightail it guys…This one's just as brutal as the others…" He managed to get out.  
        Ronny knew he had already checked the rest of the house but, rather than dwell on that room, he decided to double check everything again. Just as he was at the top of the stairs, he heard two hard thumps. He froze and clutched his gun again. It had come from the hallway. As he approached the source of the sound, the first thing that caught his eye was something lying on the floor in front of the wall across from that room, that hadn't been there before. As he took another step closer, he...He realized it was the woman's arm! He started to breathe hard. The severed appendage was clenched around something. Ronny's eyes widened and he dropped his gun when he identified the object as the alarm trigger. His legs shaking and trying so desperately to take his eyes off the sight, he ended up looking back into the room. His teeth clenched. The window and the closet door was wide open.  
        Ronny growled, now full of a new fury and ran passed the bed to the window. The wall and window sill inside and out now had blood smeared on them, as did the closet door. Ronny snapped his gaze back onto the splattered blood on the wall across from the door in the hallway, and the severed limb. That sick bastard was in the closet the whole time! His eyes lingered on the arm clutching the security alarm which had been carelessly thrown against the wall, then at the bloody footprints outside. He wasn't going to let him get away again. He thought darkly. Ronny hopped out the window, called in for backup, and followed the prints down the street to where they headed off into the woods. He may have been going into a trap, but he wasn't going to let him get away again.  
  
        "The trail went cold for a while, but a few hours later we found him in a meadow two miles outta town by the creek." Ronny finished and took another drag off his cigarette. Frederick couldn't find it in himself to ask for any details of the house, or what happened when they found the guy, but for Ronny's sake, it was best not to ask anyway.  
        "Where's he being held?" Was the only thing he really wanted to know.  
        "Interrogation room...They ain't lettin' me in though…"  
        "Have we had any luck?"  
        "Hasn't said a word we can use."  
        "Who's working him?"  
        "Johns."  
        "And he hasn't had any luck?" Frederick gaped. Ronny only took another drag.  
        "You wanna take a swing at him?"  
        "Uh, I don't think I'll be much help if Johns isn't getting anything." Ronny shrugged.  
        "It can't hurt. Besides, you might be a little more suited for this than Johns." He said. Frederick didn't know what made Ronny think that, but he didn't like it. Reluctantly he agreed.  
        "I guess I could give it a shot."  
        "Great." He said without enthusiasm, and walked with his friend to the interrogation room. Before letting him go in, Ronny grasped Frederick's shoulder.  
        "Listen, don't be fooled in there." He said in a deadly tone.  
        "Remember what he did." Frederick wasn't entirely sure what his friend meant by that, but he was aware of how hard Ronny was clutching his shoulder. Ronny seemed to realize it as well and released his grip.  
        "Sorry." He apologized. "I'll be in the other room listening."  
          
        Frederick turned, knocked on the door and waited. A few moments later the door knob fidgeted a little, unlocked, and Johns exited the room. The exasperated look on his face only added to the overall exhausted air about him. Frederick patted him on the back.  
        "How you holding up Big Johns?" Frederick asked with the usual nickname he always referred to his friend with. Johns let out an exasperated breath of air, and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
        "Try to figure out what you can J. I don't know what Ronny was thinking bringing him in. As far as I'm concerned, he's innocent." Johns replied with the nickname he had bestowed upon Frederick, which referred to the first initial of his last name, Jonston.  
        "What? Didn't you get his prints?!"  
        "We've already sent them through the system. They keep coming back inconclusive."  
        "Inconclusive? But you've got more on him than that right?" Frederick persisted. It sounded like they really had nothing to hold him with, other than a hunch.  
        "Nothing but Ronny's word. He was the one who captured him, didn't you read the report?" Frederick shook his head.  
        "I didn't get the chance to yet." Johns held out a folder.  
        "Here, take my copy. Do what you can J. Guilty, or innocent, I just want this whole ordeal to be over." Johns said then, before Frederick could say another word, turned and walked off.  
          
        Frederick slowly released his breath. He could already feel himself getting stressed out. None of this made any sense. Ronny's absolutely positive this guy is guilty, but Johns thinks he's innocent. Now he's practically being thrown into this mess blind. Speaking of which, Frederick thought as he started to open the door, why was he interrogating this guy? If Johns couldn't get anything, then what could he do? The only thing Frederick was specialized in with interrogations was...Children.  
        Frederick's eyes widened. Sitting at the table in front of him was a kid who could have been, judging by body size, anywhere from twelve to eighteen. This had to be a joke. From what Frederick could tell, he appeared to be a boy of average height. Though from all he could tell, he could be completely wrong. The kid was wrapped from head to toe with clothing. Most of his body was covered with a loose, what appeared to be a shin length, black trench coat. Every big grey button the coat had was cinched closed around him. Frederick noted that, along with the faded blue jeans he wore, the coat looked like it had only ever been rinsed off and hung out to dry instead of actually cleaned.          
        Wrapped loosely around most of his head was a long old worn out tan scarf. The only real parts of his face Frederick could see was his dark brown eyes, a little of his nose, and strands of brown hair that wasn't tucked under the scarf. The first thought that came to mind when he saw all of this was why no one took his scarf, or at least made him take it off of his face. There was protocol for this type of thing for a reason. Interrogations don't run very smoothly when you can't see the person's face properly.  
        As Frederick entered the room he noticed the kid shrank down in his seat with every step he drew closer. When Frederick pulled out the chair for him to sit in, the kid visibly flinched. Frederick was taken aback by this and eyed the kid suspiciously as he sat down. He was terrified. Frederick's heart sank at the sight of him. The kid was shaking nervously as he watched Frederick with the most timid flighty look he had ever seen on a person, even from behind the scarf. He resembled that of a trapped rabbit.  
        Considering the only thing Frederick really knew about the interrogation so far was that no one had really got anything out of him he decided to look over the notes. Frederick skimmed over the report of Johns's interrogation and confirmed it. He then skimmed over a few of the other paper's Johns had in the folder he gave him. Ronny had been the one who found the kid out in the woods. He found him retreating near the creek where he resisted arrest. Frederick noted that it was missing most of the finer details and was blunter than hell. He almost rolled his eyes on the spot in annoyance at his friend's lack of details. Another paper in the bundle caught his attention. The copy of the page was recent, though he hadn't been informed about the new information.  
        A few new pieces of information found in the investigation. Every tooth that had been taken had been a different one. No two from different people were from the same spot. And something else… Not every body had been examined, having been claimed by the family, or too soon before the case was recognized as a mass killing, but what ones had been examined were all the same. No matter how long the time period had passed between tooth extraction, to kill, the corpses were no longer missing their teeth. Each missing tooth had been forcefully wedged back in its original place after each victim was murdered. And lastly that any prints found from the crime scenes had belonged to the previous victim alternating between left and right hands. That explained a little, but left a few more questions for Frederick to try not to mull over in his spare time.  
        And one other key factor. Further questioning with family members and investigation of victim's possessions and most frequently visited locations revealed clues of very subtle psychological torment, and what seemed to be a very sick sense of humor. Paper clipped to both files were disturbing pictures of some examples. With a curled lip, Frederick set the folder down to start his interrogation. He didn't know where Johns had started, but he decided to start off with the basics, to warm him up and try to get him talking.  
        "Is it just me, or is it a little cold in here?" Frederick asked in a friendly manner. The moment he actually started to give him acknowledgement, his eyes darted down nervously and, if possible, he shrank down further in his seat and became even smaller.  
        "If you're cold, we can turn up the heater a little." No response.  
        "You wouldn't have to be so bundled up. Maybe you could take that scarf off for me then." Frederick coaxed.  
        The kid hesitantly brought his arms to his face and buried himself deeper into his clothing. It was then that Frederick understood why he was allowed to keep his scarf, it seemed to be his only comfort. At the mention of taking it off, he only seemed to distance himself further. Perhaps a subject change would help. Frederick once again looked over Johns's notes of what was asked and not answered.  
        "I see here you haven't answered any personal information. Like, date of birth?" No response.  
        "Or name? Will you at least tell me your name?" No response.  
        "That was an easy one. Is there some reason you won't even let me know what your name is?" No response.  
        "I'll tell you my name." The kid came out of his shell slightly.  
        "My name is Officer Frederick Jonston. We're here so we can try to sort this whole mess out. If you cooperate, then maybe you can leave. Understand?"          
        After what seemed like five minutes, he gave a small, almost unnoticeable, nod. And so the game continued. Frederick went on trying to coax the kid into saying something. Anything. Every time Frederick got him relaxed enough to say something, he'd say, or ask the wrong thing and the kid would wall back up. The only things he got out of him were a few yes's, no's, and several quietly muttered I don't know's. More often than anything else he got silence, or more nervous whimpers but, just like with Johns, he didn't get anything really useful. It was like he was afraid of something. It might have just been from being arrested but, this seemed a little bit excessive.  
        Out of curiosity, Frederick took this as an opportunity to get a few more details about how he had been caught. After Frederick started asking questions that pertained to that, the kid flinched. Frederick could see his eyes had gotten wider, started to dart from the door, to the floor, and he might've been trembling. Frederick calmed, and coaxed him until he was better, and got him to at least mumble what happened into his scarf after a great deal of time, then he finally had the whole story. He never ran, or resisted arrest at all. He was near the creek cleaning his clothes when he was tackled to the ground out of nowhere. From what it sounded like, he was too freaked out to do anything but try and wiggle away. Then Ronny roughly drug him off and took him here without even telling him why he was being arrested. The kid never said it, but from how freaked out he was about everything, and knowing Ronny...there was a chance that he was a bit more than rough with the kid.  
        After a few more hours in there, Frederick was on the verge of giving everything a rest. He tried asking about the case, and he got nothing. He tried asking about the kid in general, and he got nothing. While in there, he jotted down a few assumptions about the kid, just from being in there and trying to talk to him. Nervous, frightened, fidgety, anxious, paranoid, possible acute paranoia, timid, etc, etc etc. As he scanned over the list, he felt the anger in his gut towards Ronny boiling. This kid was harmless, the fact that anyone was even wasting their time on him was infuriating. Even if it didn't involve a frightened teen who looked like he'd probably need counselling after this, it would still piss him off.  
        As he prepared another question, Frederick began to hear a noise. It sounded like some type of friction. He finally pinpointed the sound, and looked under the table. The kid's fingers were repeatedly clawing and dragging his nails over his jeans. Above the table he was staring at the table with the same vacant expression he wore under his terror.  
        "Come on kid. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you can get out of here." Frederick hadn't spoken in a little while, and liked to believe that was why the kid had suddenly flinched. But by now Frederick wasn't having it. This little game had gone on long enough.  
        "Alright, that's it. What are you so frightened of right now? I'm the only one in here, and I've been trying to help you, so what is it?"  
        The kid shrank down like he was trying to disappear. Frederick let out an exasperated sigh, dropped his notes flat on the table causing the kid to flinch again, then in one swift move reached across the table and tore the scarf from his face. The kid hadn't walled up in time to block his hand away and defend his scarf. He didn't move. He wasn't shaking. He just stared at Frederick with a look of surprise. He might've been in a state of frozen shock.  
        "You're what? Sixteen? Seventeen? You're a good looking kid, you shouldn't have a worry in the world right now."  
        Yet right across the table from him was the biggest mess he had ever met. The kid, at the moment, regained a little bit of himself. In the blink of an eye he had pulled up the collar of his jacket, and burrowed himself in it in an attempt to hide. Frederick was silent. After a short amount of time he grew tired of the silence. Tired of talking to himself in there. The kid murmured something into his his jacket that Frederick couldn't quite hear.  
        "What?"  
        "...I don't want to be here…" Frederick's shoulders sagged.  
        "Neither do I kid. Neither do I...I think we've had enough." Frederick stated as he picked up his notes, pushed his chair under the table, and discarded the scarf onto the table.  
        Through the corners of his eyes he could see the kid slowly lift his head from his jacket and stare at the scarf. Then glance around the room, almost like he didn't know where he was. Before Frederick closed the door to the interrogation room, he noticed something else. His face wasn't fearful and vacant as it had been before. It looked more blank and relaxed than before. Maybe a hint of perplexion. He must have been relieved that he was leaving, Frederick thought. Frederick leaned against the wall outside, took in a breath, then headed to the monitor room where he was sure Ronny had been watching the whole thing. The entire walk to that room Frederick's irritation with the situation his friend had created grew.  
          
        Ronny wasn't even supposed to be working. Between having witnessed more than one of the crime scene's victims, and having his tooth ripped out, he was supposed to be on forced leave. Instead he decides to make a big deal about wanting to catch the sick bastard and threatens to sue the station. Their boss finally caved and let him keep working. Partly because no one wanted the lawsuit; we're still trying to keep everything as quiet and as away from public ears as possible, and because we were understaffed as it was with how much ground that needed to be covered.  
        Frederick finally reached the room, to be greeted by Ronny and a few others that were present as well. Ronny instantly directed his attention to Frederick.  
        "What are you doing in here?"  
        "What am I doing in here? What the hell was I doing in there?!"  
        "What are you talking about?" The others in the room remained quiet. They knew very well that, though Ronny was keeping his lid on, he was still in a dangerous zone. All the while, Frederick was on the verge of exploding.  
        "What in the hell were you thinking when you grabbed that kid?! What part of you thinks he's even remotely capable of being a chainsaw murderer?!" Frederick spat. Ronny glared at Frederick and changed the subject.  
        "Shouldn't you be questioning him to find out for yourself."  
        "For what?! He doesn't know anything!"  
        "He's just faking it Frederick, don't let yourself be tricked by that little bastard! Now if you're done wasting time and want to do something useful then get your goddamn ass back in there, and get him to talk!"  
        "I know how to get children to talk. Not emotionally upset teenagers."  
        "Oh for the love of God! It's all a fucking act!"  
        "You can't fake fear, Ronny."  
        "Would you get your head outta your ass already! Any psychopath out there can pretend to be normal, or happy, or sad, or afraid."  
        "...Not like that. Not that level of paranoia." A moment of silence passed between the two, and the heated argument seemed to go dormant.  
        "So that's it, you're just not even going to try?" It was more of a statement than a question.  
        "Why don't you try to admit you grabbed the first human being you found out there today?" And just like that things began to escalate. In two short strides, Ronny was so close and in Frederick's face, that he could feel him breathing through his nose.  
        "I know who I grabbed." He said quiet, yet fiercely. He then pulled his lip back far enough, with just enough time to show Frederick a missing tooth. "I know."  
        "...He's just a kid. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Ronny didn't even hesitate.  
        "Should it?" Of course it wouldn't. Frederick chuckled a dark, dry laugh.  
        "That's right, Ronny, isn't it? It doesn't matter what happened, as long as their behind bars, one way or another, in the end."  
        "What's that supposed to mean?" Ronny seethed. Now Frederick got in Ronny's face.  
        "Ever since your wife left you, you've been after every bad guy and shady character you can find...Yet you won't even glance in a fucking mirror--" The cruel words barely escaped his lips before he received a solid blow to his mouth. The other two in the room were so shocked at what Frederick had said neither reacted to hold Ronny back until after he had punched Frederick. From the floor Frederick glanced up at Ronny as the other two held him back and tried to calm him down. The look of utter betrayal and rage on his face was evident.  
        "What the hell is going on in here?!" All fight in Ronny left as everyone looked to who was standing in the doorway. Johns and their boss stood looking at the scene before them through the thick silence.  
        "Well?!" Their boss pressed. No one dared answer. Frederick finally picked himself off the floor.  
        "Nothing." He said sternly, then shouldered his way past the two.  
        "I'm taking the rest of the day off." He called to his boss.  
        "I need to get the fuck out of here…" Then he left without even a glance back to anyone.

  


        Frederick kicked off his shoes and stumbled into his house feeling utterly frustrated with everything that had happened in the last hour. The drive home had given him time to cool down, and reflect on what had just happened not long ago. He had gone a bit too far with what he had said, and felt disgusted with himself for going there. Though Ronny may very well be the best friend Frederick's got, and he regretted what he said, he still knew Ronny was wrong. There's not a snowball's chance in hell that kid is a murderer. That fact plagued his mind the most. On top of a dangerous criminal still being loose in the area, a harmless terrified kid was being torn apart by a system that could neither prove his innocence, or guilt. For that, he could not forgive Ronny's stubbornness.  
        As these morbid thoughts became stagnant in his head Frederick hadn't even realized he had unconsciously made his way down to the cellar. He sighed thinking it was as good a time as any, and went in search of his father's whisky to drown his sorrows. Finding the old bottle, he didn't bother to get a glass. Frederick simply slouched on the old recliner in the far corner of the cellar, popped the bottle open, and began to drink the burning liquid straight.  
        After a few gulps, he started to think about the last time he had drank. With a wave of a familiar feeling of helplessness as the alcohol started to kick in, he remembered he had made himself quit after Rachel passed… Suddenly Frederick felt like smashing the bottle into pieces. He felt ashamed that he had turned to the toxic substance for comfort instead of thinking out his problems again. Frederick was in the middle of wondering why he still even had the aged whiskey, when his thoughts were interrupted by his home phone ringing. Gathering himself, with bottle in hand, Frederick made his way up the stairs, and to the kitchen. He set the bottle on the counter and brought the phone to his ear.  
        "Hello?" He asked. The line was silent for a few moments before whoever was on the other end of the line hung up.  
        Frederick set the phone back down on the counter and decided it was just a wrong number. His eyes caught the bottle once more and figured he had drank roughly two and a half glasses of it. Frederick picked up the bottle and contemplated for a moment, took one final swig, then proceeded to pour the rest down the sink. Releasing a breath Frederick, though a small action, felt a little weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Perhaps it was the little bit of strength and control in an otherwise out of control situation. It wasn't much but, he felt a little better at least. Then the phone once again started to ring.  
        "Hello?" Again, a pause and no answer, followed by hanging up.  
        Curious, Frederick checked the caller I.D. Blocked. Frederick's brow furrowed. He checked the I.D of the call before to find it was blocked as well. Frederick found it odd, but brushed it off as something caught his sight. Staring at the piano through the doorway to the living room, he was filled with sorrow. Playing the piano was another thing Frederick hadn't done since his wife's passing. He walked over to the beautiful antique and placed a hand on the smooth wood in admiration. Both sentimentality and melancholy welled up in his chest. It used to be kept in perfect condition, but as of the last few years he hadn't touched it. It was a shame that the flawless white tooth-like ivory keys went to waste. Each one was priceless.  
        Then he saw it. One of the keys was missing. He may not have played it in years, but it was in the middle of the living room. He glanced at it at least once a day. When had one of the keys gone missing? Frederick knew nothing had fallen on it, nor did anything happen recently that would've knocked it out. A strange feeling of paranoia suddenly enveloped Frederick as he started to take unsure steps away from the prized piano. He couldn't shake the unnerving feeling someone had invaded his home. Frederick tried to reassure himself that he was just being paranoid. That he was only starting to feel like this because he drank but...it was as if his own home was foreign to him.  
        Frederick jumped when he heard the phone start to ring again. He felt as though he couldn't breathe as he turned and just stared at the phone lying on the countertop. It rang once. Twice. Each pause seemed like an eternity. By the third, it was in his grasp. Fourth. Fifth. Frederick knew after the sixth, it would go to the machine. Holding his breath, he hit answer.  
        "...Hello?"  
        "Dad?"  
        "Madison?" He breathed. Hearing his daughter's voice on the other end of the line, Frederick felt relieved.  
        "Duh, what other children do you have?" She asked sarcastically. Frederick gave a weak laugh, still getting over his near panic-attack.  
        "Are you okay? You sound a little off…" Madison asked concern. Thinking he might've slurred, Frederick held the phone away for a moment while he cleared his throat. The last thing he wanted was his daughter to find out he had been drinking.  
        "No, I'm fine Maddy, Just starting to get a cough is all." Frederick covered.  
        "Oh, well just calling to remind you Jeira's fifteenth birthday's coming up. I think it'd be nice if we stayed at your house for a few nights and visited." Fredericks heart sank. I't be nice to see his daughter and niece, but he couldn't help but think it wasn't safe for them.  
        "We'll see. Now isn't really a good time for you two to come into town."  
        "Oh...maybe you could come stay in my apartment instead."  
        "Maddy, you know I'm on call--"  
        "I know it's just…" She trailed off. She didn't have to say it. Frederick knew she just wanted to see him. Between his twenty year old going to college two states away, and his job, it was hard to actually visit each other. The last time she'd gotten to come home was back in December.  
        "We'll work something out. I promise." He pleaded.  
        "Yeah, okay… Well that's all I called for."  
        "Love you Maddy."  
        "I love you too Dad, bye." The call disconnected before he could reply.  
        Frederick pinched the bridge of his nose. Now a bit calmer, he again approached the piano trying to think of a logical reason for one of the key's being missing. He may not have been able to think of why it just disappeared, but he could think of reassuring reasons as to why no one had broken into his home. For one, he hadn't noticed anything else missing, so he doubted anyone would break in just for one piano key. Besides… Who would be stupid enough to break into a cop's house. Frederick became uneasy as a thought passed through his head… The same someone who would attack one. Fredericks' breath caught in his throat.  
        "Ronny!" He gasped as he made a run for the door.  
        If that crazy bastard's still out there, than that means Ronny's still in danger. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but something didn't feel right. Perhaps if he talked to someone at the station, to reassure him, he'd soon feel fine. Frederick opened the door and was met with with icy water. It had started to rain. Ignoring this, he trekked out to his car and frantically started trying to radio the station. But...there was no answer. Why was there no answer?! Frederick panicked. Without a second of thought, he immediately turned on the sirens and started his ride to the station.  
        He quickly became very frustrated with the weather. Despite being in a hurry, the road was slick, and he could barely see through the windshield. Though, he couldn't bring himself to slow down. In fact he was still driving faster than he would on a clear day. Frederick tried again to radio the station, then tried calling on his cell phone. Nothing. As a last resort, and feeling a twinge of fear for his friend, Frederick dialed Ronny's cell phone number. It rang twice before the phone was picked up.  
        "Ronny?"  
        "Freddy! You finally returned my calls!" A male voice on the other end of the line chuckled. Frederick almost swerved off the road when he heard someone else's voice on Ronny's phone.  
        "Who is this?" Frederick growled. The person on the other end of the phone began to tut.  
        "T'sk, t'sk, t'sk, talking on the phone while driving officer? You haven't gone crooked have you?" Whoever it was, was speaking in a low tone that made it difficult for Frederick to pinpoint the age. But it did seem vaguely familiar.  
        "Who is this? --And how do you know I'm driving?!" Frederick almost shouted.  
        "Hmm...You sound a little off Freddy. By any chance are you driving under the influence too? I wonder who'll make your arrest." He chuckled nonchalantly as he spoke, then hung up. Frederick tried calling Ronny's phone again, but it went straight to voicemail.  
        "Dammit!" The bastard must've turned the phone off. Frederick was seething as he continued driving to the station. Never had the twenty-minute drive seem so long. Paranoia once again found its way into Frederick's very being. He didn't like the way he said "Who'll make your arrest." He didn't emphasize, but it still seemed like it meant something…and what was implied wasn't comforting.  
        When Frederick finally made it to the station he felt uneasy. Everyone on night shift's cars were parked outside. He could only grimace and try not to think about why no one had answered his calls. Frederick made sure his gun was loaded, put it in his holster, got out of his car, and approached the side door to the building. Just as Frederick reached the door, he realized it was already cracked open. Tentatively he put his hand on the door and pushed it open the rest of the way.  
        The first thing he noticed was that the lights were off, though he could see no one was in the hallway. This is bad, this is bad, this is bad, Frederick thought as he crept through the the hallway. The first few rooms he looked in were empty. The third was not only empty, but trashed. Each room after that's conditions steadily declined. Trashed rooms, smashed furniture...Blood. Near the end of the building not only was everything broken, but there was blood everywhere. Not like the slaughters, but as if several people got into a fight and someone pulled out a knife. Frederick felt as though his wind pipes were being constricted with every breath he took. Every spot of blood or shard of glass was like he was actually witnessing his friends and co-workers being attacked first hand.  
        But still… Where was everybody? Frederick wasn't sure if he even wanted to find anybody in fear of what he might see. Out of the corner of his eye, Frederick noticed a faint glare. Turning his head, he saw on the other end of the building under a door, light was shining through. Gun clutched, Frederick crept through the dark over to the closed door of the surveillance room ready for anything. In one swift move he kicked in the door, and yelled "Freeze!" to an empty room. The light he had seen was coming from the numerous screens recording different rooms in the building.  
        Figuring it would help, Frederick examined each screen to see if this guy was still here. All were void of life but one. Big screen. Right in the middle, recording the holding cells. Everyone who had been working tonight was placed in a cell and handcuffed to the bars above their heads, and facing the camera. Frederick felt the blood leave his face at the sight of it. They all looked to be unconscious, and battered, but nothing too bad. They'll live. Though, Frederick still couldn't shake the thought of how much they reminded him of meat hanging in a slaughter house.  
        Finding the courage to go down there, Frederick had just left the room, when a phone started to ring. Frederick froze. He knew what room it was coming from. It was coming from the emergency line. Frederick closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and began to walk to the phone. When he finally got to it, he hesitated, then brought the phone to his face.  
        "For a little while I thought you were going to ignore someone's 911 call for help." Hearing that voice, Fredericks blood started to boil.  
        "By the way, by the looks of that parking job, I'd say you were speeding all the way here." He chuckled. "Damn, you're on a roll tonight Freddy! Drunk driving, talking on the phone and speeding? Someones on a bender. I know cops can bend the rules a little but sundown was over an hour ago, and it's been raining like hell out here."  
        "Who are you, you son of a bitch!"  
        "Woah! Don't want to add road rage to that list--"  
        "Answer the damn question!" He was silent for a moment.  
        "...Do I really need to spell it out?"  
        "What?" Frederick knew it was the same guy had called his house. The same guy who had committing the murders. But, other than that he knew nothing. No name or motive. All he figured out about this guy was he liked screwing around, and fueling fires, and that he had only got that much from a short conversation.  
        "Come on Freddy. Can't you figure it out?" He prodded.  
        "Where's Ronny you bastard!"  
        "Hmm...Ronny...Ronny. Oh! You know what, is he easily angered? Divorced?...Recently lost a tooth?" A frustrated growl escaped Frederick's throat as a dark chuckle was heard from the other end of the line.  
        "Lemme see... I think he's somewhere around here." Frederick could hear walking over the phone, followed by a sickening thud on a hard surface. The killer no longer held the phone to his mouth, though his low voice was still clear enough to understand.  
        "Wake up Ronny. You've got a phone call." Now, more than anything else, Frederick could hear strained shallow breathing that had a hitch in it as if, whoever it was, had just sucked water down their windpipe.  
        "Don't be rude Ronny, speak up!" He growled in a dangerous tone followed by an animal-like shriek of pain that sent chills of horror down Frederick's spine. The next words he heard were from a barely audible pathetic whimper.  
        "...Please...help me…" It was Ronny. Frederick's legs started to wobble. With those three words every ounce of boiling rage he had was replaced with sickening fear for his friend.  
        "Better hurry." The killer said in a sadistic tone, then once again, before Frederick could protest, he hung up the phone. Frederick stood there in a stunned silence for a while before he really processed what was happening. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to go. He was stuck with the hopeless grief of being sent back to square one.  
        "No! No! No! Frederick get a hold of yourself!" He yelled while practically tearing his hair out. Think Frederick, think! This bastards being leading you on all night! Serial killers don't just stop doing that shit! Frederick thought. Okay, he said better hurry, like he was expecting me to show up somewhere. So that's gotta mean I should be able to figure out where they are…          
"Goddammit! How am I supposed to figure this out!"  
        Frederick started feeling antsy as time was wasted. He tried to think up any information he could about the murderer. Everything he knew. The most recent information instantly came to mind. Frederick started to recall what Ronny said about his encounter with the killer earlier that day. As he tried to remember every detail he'd been told, he remembered Ronny had said this guy left tracks that lead off to the woods, and something clicked. If Ronny got the wrong person, then the real guy could still be out there. Frederick's heart sank. He knew it was a long shot, and if he was right , he'd be walking straight into a trap. But it was the only real lead he could think of.  
        Frederick swallowed, and realized just how dry his throat was. He took in a haggard breath, and got to work. The radio may not work, but at least one phone did. Frederick called for an ambulance for his friends in the holding cells, and left instructions for where the keys for everything were located, then drove off to his first stop.  
        Almost twenty nerve wracking minutes went by before Frederick arrived in front of a small house restricted with fresh police tape. Knowing what he would find if he went inside, Frederick instead circled around the outside of the house in search of a certain window. When Frederick was met with a sickening scent, he knew he had found the right one. The blood on the window seal confirmed it. Ronny had said the footprints lead off from the sidewalk to the woods. By now they would've long been washed away by the rain, though... Following where the nonexistent footprint would've been to the sidewalk, Frederick scoped out the surrounding area. Straight down the end of the street was the closest way to get to the woods. He could see the dark wall of trees from where he stood. That's where he would've gone. He had a heading.  
        Knowing where he needed to go, he dove into his car and headed off to the east meadow. To follow the trail he had to go off road a bit. He eased his car slowly through the forest closely following a hiking trail. His cars brights illuminated every blade of grass, stone, patch of dirt, drop of rain, and upcoming tree. As trees grew thicker the further out he got, he had to slow the car even more so he could get around them. Time passed and Frederick's paranoia grew even deeper, thinking of how much time he had to find Ronny. For all he knew his friend was already a heap of ground up flesh, and he was heading to his death.  
        Suddenly the car jolted and came to a sudden stop. Frederick sat there in a daze for a few moments wondering what had happened. He hit the gas pedal and the engine growled, but the car didn't move in the slightest. He tried harder. When he still got nowhere, he tried reverse. Feeling frustrated, he slammed his hands on the steering wheel.  
        "Fuck!" He shouted, then got out of the car.  
  
        He had driven into a ditch.  
  
        It wasn't that big, but apparently big enough to get stuck in. Frederick kneeled down deep to get a better look, and see if he could figure a way to liberate his vehicle. There wasn't a chance. When he had tried the gas, his wheels had buried the car in the soft rain soaked soil. Frederick began to shiver and realized just how soaked he had become in the short time out of his vehicle. He glanced around to take in his surroundings. Everything was black except for thin splinters of dim light that broke through the trees towering in the darkness. He was isolated in the middle of nowhere, his car was stuck, no one knew he was out there, meanwhile, his friend was at the mercy of a psycho killer who could be anywhere.  
        Frederick felt very constricted in his breathing as he tried to think of what he could do next. He'd be lying to himself if he said he was shaking only because he was cold. Feeling uncomfortable standing out in the open, Frederick turned to get back in his car. As he sat in his seat and prepared to close the door, his eyes fixed themselves ahead of the car. From what he could see from the headlights, farther ahead the trees started to span out. Frederick reached over to his glove compartment and grabbed his spare flashlight. He then checked his gun. Only eight bullets. Eight should've been enough, but he felt irritated with himself for not grabbing extra at the station while he still could.  
        Taking a breath, he turned the lights off and began walking in the general direction of the opening. Another fifteen minutes of walking had passed before he was confirmed. Eventually the trees stopped and the flowers carpeted the forest. He had reached the meadow. Frederick walked through the overgrown flower patch shining his flashlight over anything that could be something. Though, he didn't have a clue what he was looking for. Footprints? A person? All he needed was something, and something was what he didn't have.  
        With a splash, Frederick stumbled onto the creek. Where he was, it was shallow, very narrow and had grass growing over it, but was in fact the creek. It then occurred to Frederick, that if this guy has been hiding in the woods, he'd need a clean water supply. If Frederick followed the creek, he might find where this guys been hiding. As the creek spread out Frederick could see and hear the fresh water splashing under the rain. After a while of trudging through the rain and mud, he almost ran past what he was looking for. He stopped abruptly, and pointed his flashlight down at the creek muck. Despite the rain, there were still fairly prominent footprints near the water. Following the direction they lead off to, the low beam of his flashlight revealed a trail of trampled flowers that lead off to what could be a house.  
        As he approached, it became apparent that it was one of the old cabins in the area. The windows were cracked and broken, the paint had long ago peeled off, the porch roof was sagging over two rotten support posts, and the front door was hanging off its hinges. Judging by the neglect of the structure, Frederick presumed it was abandoned decades ago. As Frederick approached he held his breath. Gun at the ready he entered the dark disintegrating cabin.  
        Inside there was only one room, a fire pit full of recently burnt logs, and a cleaned up area with a bundle of blankets in the corner that told Frederick the cabin was, in fact, in use. He noticed a ladder that lead to a square hole in the ceiling. After climbing it to a loft, the only thing he had found were more signs of someone living in the condemned shack. Finding this to be another dead end, he climbed back down to ground level. As he was leaving, he noticed something shiny on the far wall. Shining his light on the wall directly he saw a black substance dripping down the wall. In large letters it spelled out "Getting Warmer"  
        Frederick found it difficult to look at for too long. He wasn't sure why, but it was unsettling just being in the cabin. Though, what was on the wall disturbed him to his core. He became aware his arms were shaking at the sight of it and tried to think of what it meant, instead of what it was. Getting warmer Frederick's brows knit together. The only thing that came to mind, was that finding game, where the closer you got to finding what ever you were looking for was, another person would call out if you were getting hotter or colder. But...what else was out here? If he's not in the right place, but he's close… Where was he supposed to go?  
        "Where are you, you sick fuck…" Frederick murmured in a defeated tone.  
        As Frederick tried to think of where else they could be, the sound of the rain became almost impossible to tune out. The clashing of the downpour in the creek he could still hear in the distance. Frederick suddenly gasped and ran out of the cabin and towards the creek as he realized where he needed to go. When he had just about reached the creek, he slipped in the mud. Now covered in sludge on most of his right side, Frederick barely gave any noticed to it and again started to follow the creek out of the meadow, and into the woods, to where the creek gathered into a swimming hole.  
        He had no idea how long he had run. He couldn't completely remember when the flowers had stopped and the trees had resumed. All he knew was that, despite how cool the rain kept him, he was beginning to get tired. His thighs and lungs began to burn as his pace slowed to a jog. He had to stop. As much as he hated the idea, he knew that if he didn't stop to catch his breath, he'd be too exhausted by the time he found those two, to do anything. He stopped, slouched over himself, and panted for air.\  
  
        Snap!  
  
        Frederick held his breath. He shined his flashlight through the dark for whatever might've caused the stick to snap. Then through the rain he could hear something that sounded vaguely like humming. Frederick tried to focus on this new sound, but it stopped before he could quite make it out. His breathing became increasingly haggard as he felt just how isolated he really was out there. Trying to shake it off he spun back around and tried to continue following the creek to the swimming hole. A little while later, where the water gathered and expanded where the ground met its lowest point, Frederick found the water hole.  
        Frederick shined light on the black waters under the nights air for only a moment before he began to whip it around through the trees relentlessly in search. The light only stopped when it fell upon a gap between two trees. There! Frederick made a beeline for the trail between the two trees. He followed it until he could no longer hear the water hole through the rain around him. Then he stopped. That far off humming was back.  
        Before he could even begin to figure out what that choppy humming was, he heard something else through the rain. He recognized it as Ronny's cell phone ringing. He might not find Ronny yet, but Frederick had that bastard now. With gun extended in place of flashlight, Frederick ran through the brush in the direction of the familiar ring tone. Finally, Frederick saw the bright glow of the cell phones screen, and fired two shots.  
        There was no fall. No thud, no yelp, or scream of pain.Nothing to indicate he had hit his mark. Paranoia took hold of him and manipulated him into taking out his flashlight. He wasn't there. The murderer was nowhere in sight. But, he had to have come through here for the phone to get here, right…? Frederick pointed the flashlight on the ground in the hopes of finding footprints. He found footprints.The whole area was flattened out with so many overlapping footprints in the mud, trying to follow any would be pointless. With yet another sinking feeling, Frederick picked up the still ringing phone. It was set on repeat.  
        Frederick snapped the phone shut, and realized he had been trying so hard to catch this guy, he had ran in a random direction off trail. Frederick soundlessly turned around, and stared at the vastness he had ran into. He wasn't sure what direction he had come from. He wasn't even sure he had ran in a straight line. What had he gotten himself into? Suddenly the humming started up again. Only now Frederick should hear that it was closer and clearer. It wasn't a choppy hum at all. It was low chuckling. With chills bouncing around the back of his neck, Frederick spun around in every direction possible, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from.  
        "Where are you! Come out where I can see you bastard!"  
        The chuckling seemed to come from every direction. Frederick got turned around, and didn't know what direction anything was in anymore. Not wanting to stand around, he made his best guess of what direction he should go in, and moved out. Every so often the sound of a branch breaking, or someone walking through the brush would cause Frederick to flinch, and point his gun in whatever direction it had come from. His reaction was always followed by more of that disturbing chuckling. Frederick's chest pounded and he felt like he might've been hyperventilating. He gasped as a thought passed through his head, dropped his flashlight, and backed away from it. The light was most likely giving away his location. Only then did he realized how bad he had been shaking.  
        Trying to get control over himself, he tried to slow his pace as he retreated, only for a large branch somewhere off to his left to break. Frederick jumped and tried to peer into the dark. He heard more chuckling coming from somewhere else, and felt his neck shutter. Get a hold of yourself Frederick! It's just one guy! Far in the distance Frederick could see a small, but bright, light. He recognized it as the flashlight he had dropped. Frederick felt a little better knowing it was no longer giving away his position...but that feeling was short lived.  
        The light rose from the ground a few feet as if being picked up, then shined directly on him. Frederick was so petrified he didn't even move. Then after a few painfully long moments, the light clicked off. When Frederick finally unfroze himself he raised his gun and fired two shots in the direction the light had been, before his mind caught up, and he realized the killer obviously wasn't standing there anymore. Frederick growled at himself for not thinking and wasting more bullets. But mostly it was because he had cowered and missed his chance at a clear shot.  
        Remembering that the psycho obviously knew where Frederick was, he started moving again. The bastard kept coming back. He flicked the flashlight on him, threw rocks at him and made noises that came from everywhere, and every time Frederick thought he had stopped, he let out that haunting chuckle. Then Frederick snapped.  
        "Show yourself fucker!!!" He screamed.          
        Then there was silence. No blinding stream of light, or sardonic chuckle. Just the rain. Though, it was far from relieving. Frederick looked around in apprehension through the eerie darkness. How long had he wandered around before the light caught his eye once again. Only this time it wasn't on him. He couldn't see the flashlight itself, but he could see the light shining on the forest floor, and reflecting off something. He knew he should avoid it. He knew it was playing right into this monsters plans. Every fiber of his being was shrieking for him to avoid it. Yet he somehow felt overwhelmingly compelled towards it.  
        As he got closer he could again hear the sinister chuckles and snickering that echoed in his head. Frederick was right on the edge of the light now. Starring. The flashlight was wedged in a tree and shining down on a small piece of painted metal. It was Ronny's badge. Frederick couldn't bring himself to move or take his eyes from the badge. There was the same black substance from the cabin smudged over the front of it in the shape of a heart. With every breath he felt himself closer to collapsing. Closer to throwing up, or breaking down and screaming...Closer to losing it.  
        Then the rain stopped. Frederick couldn't hear anything but his own breathing. He couldn't hear the rain, the river, chuckling, or that bastard walking around. He heard his breath quicken with apprehension. Where is he? Why would he leave me alone now? What is he trying to do? A feeling of dread came over frederick when a hand with two hooked fingers came from right behind him. He had barely gasped before the two fingers gouged into Fredericks left eye.  
        "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"  
        Frederick clutched his left eye socket instinctively trying to block out, and alleviate the intense pain that burrowed itself deep into his head. He screamed until he couldn't and the only noise that came from him was pained whimpering he couldn't control. After getting over the initial shock of the pain, he became aware of something warm resting on the side of his face, and under his hand. Reluctantly, Frederick removed his hand. What was on his face rolled off of it, followed by a painful tug in his head. Frederick's vision was split. Half of it was looking straight up, and the other half was staring at the ground under his head, and his own ear. He hadn't just jabbed Frederick in the eye. He had gouged Frederick's eye from his skull.  
        Despite all the pain and stress it gave him, his eye was still attached by the optic nerve. Though blurred in spots, He could still see through the eye. It might be savable. With a shaky hand, Frederick did the only thing he could really think of, and tried to put his eye back in it's socket. When Frederick fingers made contact it stung just like if he had accidentally poked his eye. When he moved the eye, his split vision made him feel dizzy and instantly gave him a wave of vertigo, but it had to be done. As his eye stung between his fingers, he could feel the empty socket being filled with tears. With his free hand, Frederick held his eyelids open as he finally brought the throbbing ball to the vacant socket and pressed it inside. He could deal with the stinging and the resistance. But Frederick wished at that moment he was deaf so he couldn't hear the suction noises that pursued his every movement. When he had lodged it back in as best he could, or dared, he let his arms fall limp to their sides and let everything else go to nothing.  
        Light. Only for a moment through the black, everything had been illuminated. Had he died? Almost? Why had the light disappeared? Was he still alive, or simply not going to heaven? With a startle Frederick was awoken by thunder. Frederick gasped and looked at his surroundings. He was still on the forest floor, and he could feel that everything around his left eye was a swollen mess, inside and out. This night wasn't over. As he tried to sit up he felt something roll off his chest. His flashlight had been placed on him. He felt a little distraught about that, but grasped it in his hand anyways.  
        Frederick tried to stand, but instantly felt unbalanced. Every time he moved his right eye, he felt an uncomfortable pressure in his left eye. The fact that his vision was still split only added to the dizziness and confusion. Frederick let himself sit back down, tore off his left shirt sleeve, and tied it around his head like a makeshift eye patch. Now that his left side was completely blind, Frederick at least felt better knowing his eye wouldn't fall back out. Taking a breath, he tried to stand again, and spent the next several minutes getting used to standing and moving around.  
        He was surprised with how calm he felt, but then realized he might've just gone into shock from the trauma. Taking another breath, he was thankful that the thunder had woken him. When he felt he could move good enough with his headache and the pain from his eye, he held his breath, flicked on the flashlight, and took a good look around. There were grooves on the ground where he had been lying. Frederick felt disturbed that he had been dragged around by the murderer while he was unconscious, but tried to shake it off so he could focus. But he still felt uneasy about it. Why had he drug me here? Why didn't he kill me? Frederick instantly brought his hand to his jaw and frantically felt around before he was convinced all of his teeth were where they should be. He felt relieved, but still baffled. Then he saw something. It was so subtle and hard to see, he almost missed it. He flipped his flashlight on back to the tree to his left. On it's trunk, barely recognizable, was a handprint in that black substance.  
        It seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. He didn't know why, but it still felt eerie to look at. He pulled himself away and looked around wondering why the hand print hand was there in the first place. There had to be a reason for it. Frederick looked at the print again, from the distance it looked like it was tilted to the right. Frederick shined the light on the trees behind and to the right, where it pointed. There was another. Frederick rushed over to it, and found another. Then another. He realized he was being lead somewhere.  
        The prints became more frequent, on almost every tree, all facing the same way, and pointing onward. Frederick found his right eye darting this way, and that, finding an eerie black print everywhere he looked. Just as he was getting sick of seeing the prints assaulting his vision and considering running away from them, they stopped. But not just the prints, the trees stopped too. He had been lead to the exact location he had been looking for. The towns summer camp.  
        Abandoned year round except for summer, it was the perfect place to hide. Frederick tentatively took a few steps, with his gun and flashlight in his hand, and continued on. He started looking through the cabins, mainly shining his flashlight through the windows. So far he hadn't found anything, but he hated how open he felt in the camp. There wasn't much cover, other than the buildings, and it was making him feel paranoid. No more than he already felt, but it still didn't help. Deep in his gut he already felt as though he was being watched...and knew he probably was. Frederick was about to look in another cabin, when a loud aggravated sound stopped him. It sounded like a chainsaw.  
        Instantly Frederick darted off towards the noise. As he got closer it became apparent that it was coming from inside a large and dark building that stood in the middle of the camp. Frederick stalled before entering an open door, and headed into the darkness. He couldn't see anything, but he could hear the chainsaw somewhere. He shined the flashlight around the large room. It seemed to be a storage room for all of the camps equipment. He could hear growling getting louder with every step he took. In a brief moment he regretted going into the dark building housing presumably one insane chainsaw wielding murderer, but brushed those thoughts aside, and swallowed his fear as he pinpointed where he was. Trying to keep his arms from shaking, Frederick took in a deep breath before diving behind a wall of shelves, and fired off two bullets at the source of the noise.  
        "What…?"  
  
        A weed whacker. Sitting seven feet away on a workbench, was a weed whacker with a zip tie keeping it on full throttle. But where's…? Just then there was a loud sound of a slam that overpowered the growling of the weed whacker. Frederick spun around on his heels and darted back the direction he had come through the large room. No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! Frederick couldn't breath as he shined his flashlight on the now closed door he had entered through. In a sudden fit of panic, Frederick sprang at the door, and viciously started trying to open it. When he discovered it to be locked, he began violently banging on it so much he was only vaguely aware of his frantic screaming. Then the weed whacker stopped growling, and fell silent.  
        Someone was clapping very slowly. Condescendingly. It made him go ridged. Then it stopped, and Frederick could hear footsteps walking away at an almost tauntingly slow pace. Frederick felt his heart drop into his stomach, and slowly turned around to face an open door on the other end of the room. The door slightly moved and creaked a little bit. Frederick got what was probably his third, or fourth adrenaline boost that day, and very shakily approached the door. He gulped, and took a step through it, and quickly looked down the hallway to find it empty.  
        Mustering everything he had left, Frederick continued down the hall trying not to think about how quiet the killer can be, or his large blind spot. As he went the one thing he could hear was his uncontrolled breathing. Step, after step, he continued on through the endless dark hallway. Every step he felt as though he was walking to his own gruesome death. Unfortunately he was far past the point of turning back. He had fallen for and been cornered into every trap this psycho had set. Frederick flinched, turned around and shined the flashlight the way he had just come. He thought he had just heard something.  
        When he turned back around to continue, he shrieked when he found more black hand prints smeared across the walls. They hadn't been there a moment before. Not wanting to be near it any longer, Frederick broke off into a run down through the hallway. He didn't get far before he tripped over his own feet, and crumpled to the floor. The blow from hitting the floor might've knocked his eye out, or loose, he didn't know. He just lied there in shock that he was now on the floor.  
        "Attention--" Upon hearing that voice Frederick rolled over and blindly shot at the source. Fooled again. Up near the ceiling was a bullet hole in the wall next to a speaker for what Frederick assumed was the for the camp announcements.  
        "--will Freddy Jonston, please come to the camp counselors office, and pick up Ronald Smith. Again, will Freddy Jonston, please come to the camp counselors office and pick up Ronald Smith."  
        The intercom clicked off, again leaving Frederick in silence. Lying on the floor, his own pulse echoing in his ears. He needed to get to Ronny. Ba-dump. But, he'd be walking straight into a trap. Ba-dump. Where was the killer? Ba-dump. Frederick heard the ceiling creek above him. Ba-dump. He's upstairs? Ba-dump...If he's up there...Ba-dump. Then he doesn't know where I am right this second. Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump.  
        Frederick pulled himself off the floor. He'd already passed the counselors office in the hall. The killer was trying to lure him into a trap, he had yet to set. Frederick refrained from using his flashlight and let his eye adjust through the dark. At the end of the hall was a staircase. Frederick again extended his gun, and crept towards them, prepared to face his tormentor head on. He carried himself up the stairs as quietly as he could. His throat felt very tight every time a step creaked. At the top of the stairs, he was distraught to find that there was a wall blocking the way to the room he needed to find. Frederick crept further up the hall, and around a corner where a faint light illuminated things a little better. There must have been a window somewhere. Up ahead was an open door to the room where he assumed the killer had just been. In about five seconds he entered the room, saw a clear black silhouette, and fired a clear shot to the chest.  
        Then the image shattered and fell to the floor. Frederick heard a quiet snicker, then out of the corner of his eye he saw an identical silhouette through another open door just as it darted out of sight. Frederick had at a mirror. No! Frederick thought as he chased after the figure. I'm not going to lose you again! Frederick emerged into a dead end with two doors. Both doors were open, one of which had a light on inside. Gritting his teeth, he quickly approached the doors. Frederick had just dismissed the lit room as another decoy, and was about to enter the darkened room, when something inside the lit room caught his complete attention.  
        Frederick felt as if he had ice melting down his spine as he took shaky steps toward a mound floating in that black thick substance. No...not black. Under this light it looked...red. It was always red, the entire time. Frederick took in the image and ran it through his mind over and over, before he let out the most horrified screech he had ever made in life and collapsed to his knees in utter anguish. It was Ronny…  
        There wasn't a bit of him that was recognizable as a person. His skin was laying to his sides as if he had been opened up like a jacket. The flesh had been stripped from his ribs, which had been broken and bent back, leaving the inside of his torso and chest exposed. Every organ that should've been in its place had been torn out and discarded around him. But...All of the veins were still intact. Everything had been stripped and torn away from his torso, arms, legs, and even his neck, except for the major veins. They had gone untouched. But how? It's not possible to maneuver a chainsaw this accurately, even for professionals. Despite mentally screaming at himself not to, he looked closer at what used to be his friend. His mouth, cheeks, and nose had been torn from his face displaying; where he should have been missing a tooth, it had been wedged back into his gums.  
        His arms had been stripped so bad, all that remained were a few bloody bones and arteries. Along with the veins and arteries, the organs and entrails he had torn out were also still intact. But...why did he die? Despite the painfully slow death, it didn't logically seem like he could die from this within a few hours. Forcing himself to look further and avoid lingering on the marrow leaking out of the broken ribs, or the uncovered spinal cord at the bottom of it all, he saw the cause. Despite his lungs being punctured and appearing to be filled with blood, in place of where his heart should have been was his badge… It still had the heart smeared on it in blood.  
        What haunted Frederick the most were Ronny's eyes. The lids had been torn off, his eyes were forever in a lifeless stare. On the verge of having a complete mental breakdown Frederick Tore his eyes away from the mesh of death beside him. On the wall he saw more red. In large letters obviously smeared on with his whole hand dripped: Behind you. Frederick eyes widened as he slowly turned around to see a dark silhouette standing in the shadows just outside the door. Instantly, he fumbled for his gun and pointed it at the unmoving figure. He got four empty clicks before he realized he had used all eight bullets.  
        "What's wrong Freddy? Missing something?" The low voice rumbled.  
        Swiftly he raised both hands into the light. In between each each finger he held up the crumpled metal remains of each and every one of the bullets he had shot. He then swung his arms back to his sides, throwing the wads of metal to the floor, and took a step into the light. Messy brown hair, and dark black eyes. But how…? It couldn't be the kid from the station. That harmless petrified mess? It's unthinkable. Yet there he stood wearing the same black trench coat from earlier, only now it was completely open revealing a black blood soaked shirt half tucked into equally soaked pants on one hip. Around his neck hung a soiled string with five odd looking rocks hanging from it. The scarf he wore was hanging from a pocket it had been shoved in. His face… It no longer held a paranoid worry, but an easygoing confidence. His smile was nothing more than a crooked smirk. Frederick was staring into the face of a complete sociopath.  
        His eyes drifted away from Frederick and onto the corpse of his best friend. Incredibly light on his feet, he soundlessly took a few steps closer.  
        "T'sk, t'sk, t'sk, he's not looking so good, eh Freddy?" He tutted.  
        "St-stay back!" Frederick shrieked.  
        He should've been blindly furious. Would have. But he was overcome with fear and his legs felt like lead. The kid stopped for a second and held his hands up in defense. The crooked smile never leaving his face. This time his palms were out. His hands were coated in blood, and unidentified gore could easily be seen stuck under his nails. As he stared flashes of seeing those hooked fingers coming at his left eye started to cloud reality. He was remembering it more clearly, seeing every detail from that moment. Something dark and foul stuck under his fingernails. He never used chainsaws. He used his bare hands...  
  
        Reality never came crashing in like in the movies. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion around him, then everything would change every time he blinked as if time had sped up, or he had blacked out. It was like he was stuck in some strange demented dream… He never used chainsaws. The kid was in front of him now. Frederick could see his mouth moving in a sinister way it had, and could see him chuckling, but all he heard was ringing. Ringing silence. Frederick suddenly became aware that the kid was right in front of him, and had clamped his hand firmly on Fredericks neck.  
        "--ello? Earth to Freddy?" He never used chainsaws...he used his bare hands…  
        Frederick didn't feel like he was in his own body, he was vaguely aware of himself shaking, but other that he felt numb and couldn't move. In fact, he felt calm. Defeated. Uncaring. At this point, nothing really mattered anymore. His best friend was dead, he was unarmed, and now literally in the hands of a deranged murderer who didn't need to a knife to gut you. The kid's lip was now curled in an irritated way. Frederick felt his thumb dig into his neck, causing him to release a groan of pain he tried to hold back, before it suddenly felt very strange to breathe.  
        "Can you hear me now?" He asked then grumbled "It's like talking to a corpse. Eh, Ronny?"  
        Then he looked over to Ronny's remains and chuckled to himself. Frederick flinched at his words causing the bastard to laugh at him sardonically. Frederick found it hard to focus. The kid had released the pressure of his thumb over his windpipe, but the burning pain hadn't subsided. He was having a hard time breathing, feeling something wet around that general area his thumb had been, it felt like something was trickling down his throat. He'd shoved his thumb completely through Frederick's windpipe. Frederick could feel the hole moving with every pained breath.  
        "I said, can you hear me now?" His spoke with a harsher tone, and stuck his thumb through Frederick's neck again, and tearing the new hole into the first, very slowly. Frederick let out another suppressed scream, and nodded his head as clearly as he could despite the added pain. The kid chuckled a little then stopped. Frederick felt something slip off his head. He became aware it was the shirt sleeve he had used as a eye patch, just as he felt fingers once again enter his left socket. Frederick screamed out as the kid forced himself into the swollen area and popped his eye out of his skull again.  
        "Freddy." He growled as he pulled Frederick's eye from his skull. Just when Frederick had somewhat gotten used to the pain, it increased ten fold as his eye was pulled out to its complete extent while still being attached and functional. His right eye was shut so tight from the pain the only things he could see was from the eye in grasp. Through the blur he could see the kids twisted smile, then it disappeared as the room spun around.  
        "Look at yourself while I'm talking to you."  
        And that's exactly what he was looking at. His eye was turned back and facing his own face, but he hardly recognized it. The upper left half of his face was stained with thick and crusted blood, and swollen around something pink and bloody, he assumed it was what his eye was attached to. His face was contorted with pain, and he couldn't help but scream out in horror. With a more drained chuckle, his eye was dropped and went slack against his face. It wasn't an amused chuckle. It was almost disappointed. Like he had expected Frederick's exact reaction, but was still hoping for something more. Something out of the ordinary.  
        Frederick forced himself to open his right eye and look up at him again despite the split vision. At first all he could focus on was his chest...Then he noticed the necklace again. The odd stones on it to be more specific. They were shaped oddly, jagged, and covered in something dark that gave them an almost rotting look. The were teeth. Five uprooted, bloodstained teeth on a soiled piece of necklace twine. Tearing his eyes away he looked up further, to his face. He looked a little tired. Bored even. Then a brow raised.  
        "I never did tell you my name did I? Heheheh...figures a bunch of damn cops can't even handle a frightened child. Heheh. Still though, I'm a little surprised you couldn't even get that out of me." He sneered. He spoke as if he was talking about someone else…  
        "...I wouldn't exactly consider you a child." As Frederick spoke, his voice only came out as a strained barely audible whisper. Upon hearing Frederick speak he finally let out a complete dark laugh.        
        "It can speak!" He laughed. "And no… I guess I don't really count as a child." He had a sly smirk with maniacal eyes. Frederick muttered something a little too quietly.  
        "Hmm?"  
        "...W-why are you doing this?" The kid seemed taken aback by this, as if the question had never been brought up. Then the smile slowly returned to his face.  
        "It just...feels so good." He said as he dug his fingers further into Fredericks neck. Frederick coughed causing some of his blood to fly up through his mouth. The kid just chuckled darkly again, as he had done so many times that night.  
        "I can see you won't be here much longer, and I might not be either. Don't worry, I don't have anything else planned for you now. Though originally I was planning on waiting for your audience before working on Ronny over there." The way he said it all so nonchalantly should've made Frederick feel uneasy. But that wasn't what he heard. The teenage sociopath holding by his neck hadn't killed his friend in front of him.  
        "...Why didn't you?" Frederick asked. The kid shrugged without interest.  
        "You were taking too long...I got bored." Was it really that simple? He became bored and ended a life?...Was everyone capable of that?  
        "By the way, out of curiosity, how did you know to come here?" He asked. Frederick tried, but couldn't get enough control over his limbs of lead to shrug.  
        "...The camps the only thing out here, it was the only obvious place." The kid rolled his eyes in irritation.  
        "Figures. 'Go to the trouble of putting a volleyball in my cabin, and you don't even notice it...Sucks. With that hand print it looked like Wilson. I'm kinda' bummed." Bummed? That bummed him out? Frederick felt cold as his shuddering began to slow and his eyes became heavy. The kid was right. He was almost gone.  
        "Heheheh, you're not looking too good either Freddy."  
        The killer raised his free hand and idly patted the side of Fredericks face. Suddenly his hand froze, and slightly pressed on a spot by Frederick's cheek bone. As Frederick blacked out he saw the killers face snap directly toward him, and watched in horror as it contorted into the most deranged wide smile, and wide eyed expression Frederick had ever seen.  
        "...You have a nice smile." Was the last thing Frederick heard before he blacked out.  
  
        Still numb to the world, Frederick's eyes slid open. He appeared to be face down on the floor...Next to Ronny. As his eye slid back shut, he distantly heard the kid talking, and sounding a lot closer to the panicked child he sounded like under the interrogation.  
        "He-hello…? Uh-um, I was taking a walk sort of by the woods, a-and you-you know the summer camp?...I thought I heard a chainsaw come from over there...Okay...Okay...Thank you." The sound of a phone call being ended, was the last thing he heard before the pitter patter of rapid foot steps faded away.  
  
        The next time his eyes opened, He recognized himself in an ambulance, and seemed to be under stable conditions. He heard the ambulance blaring and felt completely numb to his wounds, and everything else. The events of this day started to rise into Frederick's thoughts. With a sinking feeling of realization, he started to piece a few things together.  
        The first thing that came to mind, was the first murder of the day. The victims house had only been two streets over from Frederick's home, giving the kid plenty of time to sneak in before hand. He then realized the similarity between ivory and teeth, explaining the piano key. Then he thought of the kid himself. Nothing about him made any sense. He acted in an easygoing casual manor, but attacked so brutally. He had the skills of an experienced senior murderer, but couldn't possibly have more than a few years of knowledge. His goal of mental torment seemed to be for the sole purpose of screwing around and entertaining himself. He was a genius, but still got caught…  
        Nothing is ever supposed to make sense when dealing with insanity, but that was one thing Frederick couldn't shake. He obviously could've broken himself out of the station at any time, the details of which Frederick didn't know of, yet he still let himself get caught, just to get Ronny? It didn't add up. And why would he pick such a pathetic persona? Part of Frederick still couldn't believe that sick fuck could act as such a scared sniveling kid so perfectly, much less put up with it. They're just too different. Like two completely different people all together.  
        Frederick wondered on the possibility of a sibling. A twin perhaps, being caught in place of the first. That could explain the difference in personality. That psycho was forcing his brother to stay silent, and possibly join in. It would also explain the timid behavior of whoever Frederick had spoken with. As well as why the real murderer didn't seem to remember everything about the interrogation, and the way he spoke about it. Though… Frederick remembered a single image. Something he had disregarded. Back in the station there were bullet holes all over the walls. Most of which had condensed around the interrogation room. He must've been liberating his accomplice.The weaker twin got caught, and the other broke in to get him out. That was the only explanation he could come up with. They were just too different from each other for it to be one persons big act.  
        Lying in the ambulance gave Frederick what seemed like an eternity to think. A dark thought passed through his head, that might've made him chuckle, if he could. Ronny had been the thirty-second kill. Like the average amount of permanent teeth an adult carries. With any luck, that means he'll move on to somewhere else. But...whose were the five teeth on his necklace? He was positive there had only been 32 reported incidents. Who were the unfortunate souls he had yet to revisit?  
        The next time Frederick awoke he was in a hospital room. He had been patched up a few days ago and was scheduled to be released in a few weeks. Frederick was hooked up with so much pain killer he hadn't noticed everything until one of the nurses informed him of his overall condition. His neck would heal, with a possible change of voice due to damage to delicate tissue. Courtesy of the bastard scratching his thumb around the wound. Frederick's eye was correctly placed back in it's socket, though only time would tell if he would ever see out of it again, and if so, most likely not very well. Now all he had to look out for was infection, from everything that touched and got on his eye.  
        And, lastly the killer had revealed his name. Deeply scratched into his back were the words "Vash, was here." The nurse had said deeply carved, but Frederick had instantly corrected her with scratched. She looked a little uncomfortable, but didn't ask what he had meant by it. How could she know.  
  
        After a few days of rest someone finally came in, Johns, and questioned Frederick about what had happened exactly. Then, once Frederick had said what he could, he asked about everyone at the station.  
        "Minor wounds, and a few bullet grazes. No one really remembers what happened exactly. The doctors found welts on their heads that would explain the scrambled memories, but everyone'll be back in no time. You however will be on leave for a while."  
        "...But what about their teeth?"  
        "Not a molar out of place." Frederick felt a little relieved to at least know that much.  
        "That's good...I'll let you know if I think of anything else…" Johns took that as his cue to leave and stood, just before leaving he stopped in the doorway.  
        "I'm really am sorry for your loss…" Frederick said nothing.  
        "...No one would blame you if you found a new job."  
        "...I know." He finally breathed.  
  
        Every day felt the same. People would visit. Grieve. Then leave. The nurses would check his condition. Inform Frederick he was doing well. Then leave. Frederick felt hollow. The girls, Maddy and Jeira, would call and talk when they could. It was the only time when Frederick smiled. Then night came. Sleepless nights. Every time he closed his eye Frederick was haunted with Ronny's permanently opened dead eyes and quiet snickering. And the smile… The smile was the worst. He saw it in his sleep, every doorway, and every dark corner. The deranged menacing grin of Vash.  
        On the second week Frederick had, had enough. After requesting an empty journal, Frederick started to write down every detail of what had happened to him, and what he knew of the others. About the same time he finished, the doctors had started to wean him off his pain killers. He started to notice and unusual pain coming from his mouth. Frederick counted, and recounted. He wasn't missing any teeth, but why did it feel like something was wrong? Frederick tried to convince himself he was just being paranoid, but none the less the day he was released he went straight to a dentist before anything else, to have himself examined.  
        "Hm. This is strange."  
        "What is it?" Frederick asked the dentist.  
        "Theres an open laceration in your gums." He said as he inspected the top right side of Frederick's gum line. "It isn't bleeding anymore but didn't you notice any blood?"  
        Frederick nodded and told him the doctors had insisted that after a traumatic experience it's usual for a victim to vividly remember certain sights, smells, sounds, tastes, and sensations. They had him convinced that he simply remembered the taste of his own blood from his neck injury. The dentist scoffed about doctors knowing nothing, then proceeded to inspect the laceration. The dentist laughed dryly.  
        "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you've had an extra tooth removed." Frederick went ridged.  
        "What?"  
        "Hm? Oh, it's nothing. Occasionally some people are born with and extra tooth of two. Some of the more underdeveloped ones don't make it outta the gums and can go unnoticed. Though sometimes you can feel them through your cheek if you know what to look for."  
        The dentist went on to explain more and share a few stories about a few he had extracted, but it fell on deaf ears. The rest of the check up went by in a haze. Before he knew it he was speeding home in his car, He just wanted to be home, and for this nightmare to over. As he walked down the driveway to his front door, he started to feel calmer. It was short lived. When he cracked the front door open, something just seemed off. Nothing looked out of order, though his throat felt so constricted it was pulling at his stitches. Frederick soon found himself turned around in his own house. Every turn he would quickly whip his head to the left to get a good look from his blind spot. Nothing was out of place or broken. It was exactly how he left it that night.  
  
        Then he saw it. Staring him right in the face. Frederick could feel his breath grow louder, but paid no mind to it, as he looked over every picture frame in the room. All the same. He darted down the hall and looked at every picture frame in there.  
        "NO!"  
        He ran up the stairs, searched every room, and every checked a few photo albums. They were all the same. Now he was standing outside the study. Her study. No. Oh God please no. Not in here too. Frederick opened the door. The first picture he saw, had also been vandalized. In every picture he had, every smile, from every person, had a thick 'X' scribbled, scrawled, or scratched over them. The picture he was currently staring at was Rachel beloved family portrait of her self, Frederick, and Maddy. The beautiful smiles of his late wife and daughter had been burnt into the shape of X's. The only part of Frederick in the portrait that hadn't been burn was his left eye. The bad one. Frederick' s hands were shaking from the utter violation of this room, and knew he was on the verge of the well over due breakdown he had yet to have. Everything suddenly rushed to Frederick all at once. The murders, that night, Ronny, the invasion of his home.  
        One sound made all of it invalid at that moment. A note. He instantly recognized the precise note. A horrific song was being played on his piano, and flowing through his house. He couldn't think. without a single thought in his head, and consumed with fear, Frederick slowly approached the source of the sound. He knew that note. He had never heard the song before. High, and low pitched noted overlapped themselves in an order that made it sound like two different song were being played. Though, the tempos synced up perfectly, it was like the sounds of discord and chaos. They went together hand in hand. It was terrifying.  
        Frederick stopped outside the door to the living room. He knew that note. It was the dark note of the key that had been ripped from his piano. Frederick's hand was shaking so bad when he grabbed the door knob, he could barely turn it. The song ended as the door swung open. Frederick barely heard himself make a pathetic shriek before his eyes were covered by Vash's scarf.  
        "Heheheh, long time no see Freddy!"  
          
        Frederick Jonston's body was found the following weekend by his daughter and niece, who had come for a visit, in the upstairs study. Bits and pieces of him were found scattered around the house leading to the corpse. Like the others, he had been torn apart, his right eye had been completely torn out and stuffed into his reopened neck wound, along with several piano keys. found lying in his rib cage was the journal he had filled in the hospital. Near the end of the journal, in small neat cursive, different from Frederick's handwriting, was crudely blunt details of what had been done to Frederick, along with several smiley faces. The end of it was signed Vash.  
        Upon closer investigation, the same writing was found throughout the book giving small facetious notes and lol's every so often about things he found amusing, interesting, or even gave praise to. Vash has not been caught, though it was discovered that in at least two different cities in the U.S have also been struck with the same gruesome murders. The first number of victims being 28, and the second 32.  
        The last known whereabouts of Vash was in a small town in northern California. An eight-year-old boy had woken up in the middle of the night to find someone leaving his room through the window. Through the moonlight, he could see a wide smile, then the person put a finger to his lips and left. The next morning the he excitedly told his parents he had seen the tooth fairy, described what he had saw, and that the tooth he had placed under his pillow was gone. His parents quickly dismissed it as a dream, and said his tooth was probably somewhere in his bed. Though, when their son presented a few crumpled bills he found under his pillow, they became alarmed to find they were covered in blood.  
        Though there were no reports of Vash returning later, there have been several reports of break-in's leaving behind bloody bills in place of teeth scattered around North America. Few reports had descriptions, all resembled Vash.


End file.
